November 2013

I Have Not Photographed

I have not photographed
The first taste of honey
The first wild strawberry
The first touch of sunlight
On pale winter skin
Nor the smell of the rain
On parched earth

Nor have I correctly exposed
The finger of God
In a basin of light
The kiss of the shadows
In the velvet of night
Nor the sound of the surge of the sea
Through needles of rock
In fathoms of blackness
And phantoms of white

The camera never lied
Nor saw , nor heard
A journey of echoes
A cathedral of trees
A path to a time before time
Through wild rocky places
And green hollows
To an emerald pool
To a bed and a blanket of leaves

A failure to frame
A whisper in the dark
A candle
A stolen kiss
The flicker of flame
In cold champagne
And your outrageous Yes!

In the call of the drums
In the beautiful silence
In the diamond in the dark of the eye
In a snatch of song
I will remember
An altar of barbed wire and roses
A temple of time condensed
A dance to inspire
To call in the fire
With sudden, surprising success

No images returned
Of the hum of the drum
The staccato gun
Nor the heat in the beat in the bones in the feet
And the eyes meet
Heart, hands, hips, released I have ceased
My hesitation

But neglected to photograph
The curl of the wind
Over warm slopes and sculpted rocks
The curve of the wing
The ease of the red kite
Riding
On a breath
Nor have I condensed
The cauldron of stars
The circle round the fire
The Chinese lantern
Lit and lifted to high skies
Like sunrise at midnight